


Uncomfortably Slow

by paperclipbitch



Category: Being Human, Being Human (UK)
Genre: Gen, but i really like it so, series two spoilers, teeny little fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:32:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/pseuds/paperclipbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitchell brings him some of the tea that Annie’s making like it’s the only thing keeping her sane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncomfortably Slow

**Author's Note:**

> [posted on LJ July 2010] I think this was meant to be a part of a bigger fic, but it ended up just being a little... moment. Title is a Newton Faulkner song that's great for angsting to.

Mitchell brings him some of the tea that Annie’s making like it’s the only thing keeping her sane. Well. It is the only thing keeping her sane, but they’ve got used to that (and to buying the extra box of teabags) by now.

“Also, there are biscuits,” Mitchell informs him, settling himself on the floor next to George. “Two kinds and they both have chocolate. Annie is really starting to branch out.”

“Oh good,” George says flatly. “ _Two_ kinds of biscuits? Wow.”

He cups his hands around the mug and stares at it.

“I’d drink it if I were you,” Mitchell says quietly, “it wasn’t that warm to begin with.”

They listen to the clattering from the kitchen.

“It’s all right,” George murmurs, “there’ll be about four more litres along in a minute.”

“True,” Mitchell concedes, and something that isn’t a smile but that might be one if you squinted hard enough flits across his mouth.

George sips at his tea and reflects that, if nothing else, Annie has got the hang of making the perfect cuppa. 

“I made my girlfriend a werewolf,” he mutters at last. “I _gave_ her this curse.”

Mitchell is silent. “At least you didn’t give her chlamydia,” he says eventually.

George considers this, sipping his tea. “Tell me, Mitchell, in what way is being a _werewolf_ better than having chlamydia?”

Mitchell shrugs. “It doesn’t hurt when she pees?”

“That’s cystitis,” George responds.

“Ah.” Mitchell offers him a smile. “You didn’t give her that either.”

There are a thousand things that George wants to say to that, most of which cannot be said with words, just with teeth, but in the end he sighs and reaches for one of the two kinds of chocolate biscuit.

“No,” he agrees heavily, “no, I didn’t give her that either.”


End file.
